


Disappear

by FairyLights101



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Universe, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shiro is presumed to be dead but its okay, he's just taking a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 09:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14210553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: But Keith didn’t let them go. Didn’t move. Instead, he knelt there on the cool floor beside Lance’s bed and stared. Drank in those puffy eyes, that pale skin, the nails picked raw. At the evidence of tears that stained his cheeks, pain etched deep into the creases of his too-young face.This war might ruin us.





	Disappear

Keith leaned into the glass pane, cool against his bare shoulder. A soft breeze ruffled his hair, stirred the damp strands. Outside, a foreign palaxy lay beyond, illuminating the darkness that stretched on, endless. He didn’t know where they were. Where they’d just come from. Where Earth was. Only that they were drifting. Waiting. Endlessly. So much waiting and learning. But with every little scrap of information they acquired, that only raised more questions. Too many of them. Ones he feared would never be answered. All he’d get would be the eternal darkness of the void outside. 

Keith sighed, pressed his fingers to the glass. Looked down to his other hand, to the blade that lay loosely in his palm. The little sigil glowed back - almost seemed to pulse to the beat of his heart, slow and methodical. He turned it over, caught his reflection in the glossy metal. 

He knew what the sigil meant, what the very existence of the blade meant. Knew where it was from. Not necessarily why he had it, not the specifics, but a guess at least. Because one of his parents had been Galran. Because he carried Galra blood in his veins. There was so much he didn’t know though - why he looked human, which one had been Galra, if his foster father had known, and so much more. 

But he wasn’t sure if knowing would make anything better. His family was gone. He was alone. Well, mostly alone. On a ship with six others, a handful of space-mice, and, oddly enough, a cow. And yet, despite the people around him, it rarely felt different. Better. Like- 

A soft sound made his head rise, and he twisted, glanced behind him. Lance stood in the doorway, a blanket draped around his shoulders, face puffy and discolored. His hair was a mess, but he had his blue lion slippers on, just like always. They blinked at each other. Lance’s lips parted. Closed. He shook his head. Sniffed quietly as he tugged his blanket tighter. 

Realization slapped Keith in an instant -  _ he’s been crying.  _

Lance was religious about his skincare, about his hygiene, his clothes too. But he looked disheveled, with red-rimmed eyes Keith had only seen once, when Lance’s leg had been snapped at the shin and he’d slumped into Keith’s chest, sobbing and clutching at him, cursing him in Spanish with every jostle. 

Keith tried to speak, to find words, but he couldn’t - nothing was good enough, ever enough. Instead, he could only watch as Lance crossed the space between them and sank down in front of Keith, just a few centimeters between their feet. Lance didn’t look at Keith - just turned his head and stared out into the vast space beyond them, to the blue-tinged supergiant and the twelve planets that orbited it. The ship was moving quick, and within a minute they’d completely passed the star, the glow chasing after them as they carved a path through orbits and asteroid belts. 

The fading light played across Lance’s face, a dozen different shades of blue dying his skin, filling his eyes - it made it easier to see the grief etched into his face, lines creasing his forehead. Swollen, bloodshot eyes, unfocused as they absently took in their surroundings. Discolored skin where tears had spilled out onto cheeks flushed despite his paled skin. His lips had been bitted raw, blood lingering in the creases, and he’d no doubt spent ages tearing at his hair for it to look at ridiculous as it did. Lance raised a hand to the blanket, fingers trembling as he shifted his blanket a little tighter around him and clenched his fingers, something metal shifting as he did so. 

_ Why is he crying?  _

Even Keith had stopped crying over Shiro, no sense in it after one movement, let alone two. But this seemed different than when he’d seen Lance crying after Shiro had vanished. Keith just didn’t know why. 

He glanced back outside, to the great gaseous planet they slipped past. They were close enough that he could see the storms on its surface, the clouds that swirled in great brown and green sweeps, a surface hidden somewhere far beneath. Nothing like Jupiter or Saturn, not that he’d ever gotten close to them in real life - only in simulations, too many to count. 

Everything was different. 

He wasn’t exactly in that desert shack anymore, hiding from the sun’s oppressive heat as it baked the earth around him, chased him through the canyons he’d explored for days on end. A sun in a solar system that held their planet where they’d all hailed from. Where they’d grown up, rising from the dirt to stand on two feet, reaching for the space with arms too short but with technology at their fingertips. A planet their families had flourished on. 

_ Family.  _

Lance had family. A big one, one that was back on Earth. Alive. Healthy. A family he hadn’t had time to say goodbye to. One that didn’t know if he was alive or dead. 

Rigid, Keith turned. Looked at Lance again - at his hands. At the golden chain that glittered between his fingers. Keith hesitated, reached out. Lance twitched when Keith’s fingers brushed across his. Lance’s eyes flickered. Snapped up to Keith. Fresh tears clung to his eyes, and Lance swallowed hard, pressed his other hand to his lips. 

But when Keith moved, settled beside him and wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulders, he didn’t move. He simply sat there, frozen still and stiff. Keith didn’t dare speak. Didn’t know if he should or even could break the tenuous silence that hung between them, heavy, balanced on the tentative touches that connected them. 

Rather than break it, Keith squeezed Lance’s shoulder. Pressed a little closer and guided Lance into the crook of his neck. Lance was stiff against him, muscles tense, body shaking faintly. 

And yet, after a moment, Lance leaned into Keith, body still tense - not willing, but not particularly eager either. But Keith didn’t ask, didn’t pry. Just pressed his cheek to Lance’s head and hugged him a little closer, his other hand settling overtop Lance’s fist. Another sniffle. Lance’s hands shifted, fingers fluttering. 

_ I know you’re scared. I know it’s not what you wanted when you got into this.  _

They hadn’t anticipated the amount of danger. Hadn’t really thought that they would die, that they might never make it back to Earth. They’d only signed up for the academy, only wanted an education, wanted to fly, to sail among the stars above. But they’d been swept up into a plot far bigger than Keith could have possibly dreamed. And, through the fights, the time in the healing pods, nearly being flung out into space unprotected, he wasn’t entirely sure that it had ever sunk in. They’d been invincible. 

But they weren’t. 

They’d never been anywhere close. 

And losing Shiro had proven that. And it seemed like it had shaken Lance deeper than he’d thought. 

Lance shuddered. Something between a whine and a whimper crept out, broke the fragile silence between them. He twisted into Keith, arms moving, and buried his face into Keith’s neck, his cold nose and hot ters pressing into Keith’s skin. A rough sob burst out, left him shuddering and clutching at Keith desperately as they both shook. A plea.  _ Don’t let me go.  _

Keith’s arms closed around Lance, pressed him closer, held him tighter, shifted Lance until he spilled into Keith’s lap, his warm and shockingly light body slumped against Keith’s chest. Lithe arms slipped around Keith’s neck, trembling hands tangled into his hair, tugging. Something garbled came out, senseless, undecipherable, and Keith didn’t even try. 

He simply held Lance like the very fabric of reality depended on it. 

He held Lance tight as he shuddered, tears spilling onto Keith’s shoulder, unending. But Keith didn’t fight it, didn’t try to stop it. Just let Lance clutch at his shirt, fisting the fabric tight in quivering hands as he shook his head, spluttered sounds that never quite made it into words. Keith pressed his cheek to the side of Lance’s head. Stared into the darkened bridge, illuminated faintly by the blue-white sun, by the dimly glowing lights that kept the ship going. Trailed his fingers through Lance’s greasy hair. Down his back, across ribs that stuck out too much and and sharp vertebrae. 

_ How long have you been holding this back? How long have you been struggling on your own?  _

Grieving over all they’d lost thanks to chance, to being in the right place at the right time - or, perhaps, the wrong place, the wrong time. Had there been a search? Did their families still hope, still pray for their return? Had their families been hauled off for questioning? Were they even still alive? 

Keith - he had no one who tied him to Earth anymore. Only the desert, wide open and baked beneath countless blistering hot days, the scent of sagebrush in the air. The man who’d been something like a father-figure was long gone. No body, no traces. Simply gone. His mother wasn’t even a fleeting memory, just an illusion formed and reformed so many times that he wasn’t sure  _ what _ she could have looked like. 

But Lance - when they’d bonded, that ridiculous headgear closed around their skulls, conjuring images of what was in their mind, he’d thought of his family. His mother and father, grandparents too. Brothers and sisters with their spouses and their children, or maybe cousins nieces and nephews. A family he might never see again. That would think he was dead, would never know what had truly happened to Lance. A runaway. Killed and hidden. Vanished away by some force they couldn’t fathom. 

And it was terrifying. 

They were nowhere near home. They’d lost one of their own, somehow, someway. And who knew who would be next. Lance hiccuped. Keith turned, pressed his lips to Lance’s ear. Words bubbled up and died away between breaths. Were words even enough? Was there a way to say  _ “I know Shiro died, and you might too, and your family will never know, but it’s okay because we have to keep going, so suck it up”  _ in any way that sounded remotely decent? 

He’d never been the best with words in the first place. So he didn’t speak. Just slid his fingers through Lance’s hair, listened to his sobs, slowly softening. With time, the shaking died away. The barely audible sobs turned into whimpers, then sniffles, then, finally, silence. Lance was still in his arms, limp against Keith’s chest.

Keith waited until Lance’s breaths had been even for a while before he shifted. It was awkward, gathering Lance into his arms, cradled into his chest, and to stand, but Keith managed. Lance hardly stirred, fingers only tightening slightly in Keith’s shirt as he rose. Lance was too light. He’d lost weight, enough that it was visible in the thin wrists, in the shallower cheeks, but just barely. Only up close. No doubt over Shiro. Over the crippling grief and fear. Keith held Lance a little closer. 

_ I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.  _

He turned his back to the gaseous giants outside illuminated by a burning hot sun and strode out of the bridge, doors parting with soft hisses, footsteps carrying in the silence. The halls were empty, filled with the dim nighttime setting lights. The kitchen was unoccupied, but it looked as though it had been recently used - like Hunk had been stress cooking at some point when Lance and Keith had sat there in the bridge, quiet. The hangers were out of his way, but he had no doubt that Pidge was there instead of their room, slumped over a desk. 

Keith shook his head. Turned to the sleeping quarters. Somehow, Lance didn’t pull his head from Keith’s shoulder, didn’t wake even though Keith’s steps sounded deafening to his own ears, that every jostle melt too large, too much. Keith shook his head. Took a deep breath. Turned down the last hall and crept down to the end where a door with a glowing blue lion’s head sat above the door. He stood there, waited until the system recognized their biosignatures and let them in. Inside, it was messier than usual with the bed unmade, tissues spilling out of the wastebin, games and artifacts scattered around. But it was still Lance’s room. Not too  _ clean.  _

Keith turned the lights on with his elbow, as dim as he could, and let the door slide shut. Pulled the covers back with a careful flick of his foot. Eased Lance into the bed and carefully untangled those thin fingers from his shirt. But Keith didn’t let them go. Didn’t move. Instead, he knelt there on the cool floor beside Lance’s bed and stared. Drank in those puffy eyes, that pale skin, the nails picked raw. At the evidence of tears that stained his cheeks, pain etched deep into the creases of his too-young face. 

_ This war might ruin us.  _

He glanced at the bedside table. At the well-loved picture lying there, a family portrait. At the woman who must have been his sister, heavily pregnant, her hands pressed to her distended belly. Another woman, perhaps a sister-in-law, cradling a pregnant belly too.  _ Did he get to see them be born? Will he get to see them again? I doubt it. But we have to hope.  _

Lance’s hands shifted. Metal brushed across Keith’s fingers. He glanced down, found Lance’s clenched fist now open, a golden chain spilling out. A cross and an oval locket sat snug in his palm. Things Keith had never seen truly before. It almost felt illicit, looking at those two - those things that Lance had kept secret, or, perhaps, just things that Keith had never noticed. 

And yet he reached forward, brushed his fingers over the cross, exquisitely carved with tiny veins, flowers, and swirls on the front. Keith turned it over - the back was plain except for a small inscription.  _ “Find your way”. _

Keith licked his lips. Glanced at Lance’s tired face, then let his fingers slide down to the locket. It had a front etched to mimic an ocean, the sun setting on the horizon. Something else on the back that caught Keith pressed into before he turned it over.  _ “You are loved.”  _

Keith stared at it, mulling over the words. Over it all. He didn’t open the locket. Didn’t try to find something to breathe into the silence. He simply rose, slowly eased away from the bed. 

A soft sound made him turn. Warm fingers curled around his wrist. Lance blinked up at him, bleary, exhausted. He tugged gently. Keith gave him a small smile and a nod. Lance let him slip away to turn the lights out. They both knew he’d return, and he did, crept into the space between Lance and the wall and beneath the subtle blue glow from the striplights overhead. He pulled a blanket over them. Opened his arms without a word. 

Lance scooted into his embrace. His hands were steadier when they twisted into Keith’s shirt once more. His head nestled into the space beneath Keith’s chin, and Keith closed his eyes with a smile. He squeezed Lance closer. 

_ I won’t let you disappear too. _

**Author's Note:**

> *finger guns* comments are nice. my tumblr is fairylights101writes


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